Car Troubles
by RainyWorld
Summary: This was not how Sherlock wanted to spend his afternoon; in fact, this is the last thing the detective expected to happen. Currently locked inside a black 1990 Eldorado Cadillac with his arch nemesis Jim Moriarty, seemingly just as pissed by the situation as the master sleuth. For the next hour the only thing to entertain them is a radio and a dance party...wait what?


**This is my first fanfiction! So there's going to be a lot of mistakes. Critical feedback would be greatly appreciated. **

**I do not own Sherlock or its characters.**

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Car Troubles- A Sherlock Fanfiction

This was not how Sherlock wanted to spend his afternoon; in fact, this is the last thing the detective expected to happen. What you may ask? Well, spending the day locked inside a black 1990 Eldorado Cadillac with his arch nemesis Jim Moriarty, seemingly just as annoyed by the situation as the master sleuth of course. But let's go back to the beginning to when this whole thing got started, shall we?

Our protagonist and hero of the story, Sherlock Holmes, had been led under false pretenses by his beloved boyfriend John Watson, suggesting they should get out of the apartment for coffee. It had been a while since the two had an, "official," date as John called them. Crime solving, apparently, is not something, "normal couples," would do on Saturday evenings shockingly. How terribly dull!

But with a knowing grin, and murmurs of a "special reward" when they got home, a tactic he reserved for those especially tough days when Sherlock wouldn't cooperate, the detective agreed. It wasn't until a strange car approached the curb when Sherlock realized something was amiss. So much for his infamous deduction skills!

Within moments of the unfamiliar arrival, John shoved a very surprised Sherlock into the vehicle with an equally shocked Moriarty sitting in the passenger seat.

"What is the meaning of this John?" wailed Sherlock, slapping his hands against the locked window.

"What the hell Sebastian," Moriarty whined, addressing his lover. "I thought you said we were going to get coffee!"

Both parties' deceitful boyfriends stood side by side on the sidewalk. Unbeknownst to the hero and villain, it seemed their respective partners teamed up to plot against them. They stood with authority, watching the babbling children in the car whom they had locked in.

"The two of us are going to get coffee;" Sebastian stated casually, twirling the keys to the ignition. "You are going to stay here while we are gone." John nodded in agreement.

"No, take us with you!" Sherlock cried out.

The assassin's face seemed to pucker at the detective's words. John, equally irritated.

"Are you kidding me?" John hissed, taking a step forward. "Do you even remember the last time we went out for drinks after running into Jim and Sebastian?"

Sherlock looked taken aback. He tried to call the memory into being but to no avail.

"Upon seeing each other, you broke into a fist fight in the middle of the restaurant." John continued, quivering with suppressed rage.

"I don't see how that's important. We always figh-"

"You threw him through a glass window!"

The detective giggled at the moment lost in time, earning a glare from the consulting criminal.

"No Sherlock, it's not funny. Paying thousands of dollars in property damage and an old woman's hospital bill from my own wallet is not funny!" He roared.

"That old lady had it coming. She was giving me the evil eye." Moriarty muttered through pouted lips.

"So, you push me into her?" The taller man retorted sarcastically.

Moriarty, who had positioned himself on top of Sherlock, a sight comparable to mating toads, in order to acquire the same view out the window as his counterpart, kicked him in the back of the leg. In an instant, an all or nothing footsie war broke out between the fully grown men. The assassin watched on as John attempted to break the boys up to the best of his abilities. His trained sniper eyes gliding back and forth, following the scurrying doctor yelling about how immature the two were acting. With some time and much pestering from mother hen, the boys broke themselves apart, each slumping down into their respective seats.

"Come John," placing his hands on the haggard doctor's drooping shoulders. "Let us go get that coffee."

"Sebastian, wait!" Moriarty stared out in a frenzied panic. "How can you do this to us! This has to be domestic abuse!"

He chuckled. "We'll be back in an hour. Don't kill each other while we're gone…Or else."

"If either of you so much as scratch each other, I will string you up to a lamppost, remove all your innards and ride the hollow carcasses like a meat toboggan." John concluded, marking the promise with his famous sugar sweet smile.

The two gazed wide eyed at their individual mate's death threats. Sherlock didn't know much about Sebastian Moran, but he knew John, very well. In fact, it was crystal clear to the detective that the ex-army doctor would make good on his promise if anything did occur. But being left behind, stuck in an automobile with your worst enemy just because your loved ones wanted a peaceful coffee run seemed positively cruel.

"Wait! Come back!" The opposites screamed in unison.

Cheeks pressed against the glass, arms banging wildly in an effort to escape their tiny prison. No amount of screaming or banging could save them now; for the next hour the two would be trapped in Sebastian's car. Sitting back, it finally sunk in just how hard it would be to sit through the boredom without killing each other until John and Sebastian came back. Without their boyfriend's ability to occupy them, silence sets in.

A very real and unnerving silence.

A little known fact about Jim Moriarty is that he hates it when a room is silent. There has to be at least some white noise or he'll lose whatever's left of his sanity. That much Sherlock could deduce from the other man's fidgeting. He himself had retreated into his mind palace to reorganize files when the radio dial click on. The criminal fumbled with the dial until choosing a more popular station for trendy songs both new and old. For the most part, Sherlock's opposite kept the volume low, listening to the quiet beat and bits of song lyrics. Every so often, Moriarty hummed softly while tapping his hand against his tight to a song Sherlock failed to recognize. When the detective turned to stare at Moriarty, he immediately stopped before turning like an owl to face the window, pretending to be looking for Sebastian. The quick swivel of the brunette's head, amused Sherlock to the point where they developed somewhat of a game. When one faced the opposite way, the other would stare at the back of their skull, vise-versa swiveling became a competition to catch the opposite person looking. Needless to say, it got old fast.

The low hum of music continued until the announcer said he would be playing A Thousand Miles next did the volume finally turn up.

As the first few notes of the song began to chime, the two slowly turned, looking longingly into each other's eyes, the melody striking something deep inside the opposites. They could deny it no longer what they must do in the confines of their temporary prison. A desire between them that cannot further be contained. Slowly, the two leaned in with half lidded eyes, lips parting slightly into pink horizontal crescent moons as the opening melody played its last two notes.

"MAKING MY WAY DOWNTOWN! WALKING FAST-"

Screaming loudly in each other's face, both boys shot backwards, bouncing up and down in the chairs singing the famous chorus. As the rhythm proceeded, the more their hips, head, and arms waved about erratically. Their attempts to dance were blocked by the small confines of leather and metal. Then again, flinging oneself back and forth to a catchy song in a car is not the greatest plan of action when bored. If described by a passerby, seemingly the car owner left two adolescent baboons in the front seats, wiggling around in rapid succession with each other. But in hindsight, it gave the impression that the two geniuses were suffering from an epileptic seizure. The only points of stopping were the few seconds dedicated to the station's changing playlist, then it was back to business. No matter what song played, the strange monkey-like dance would not cease.

"Oh ma gawd! Nicki Minaj!" The evil genius yelled.

Moriarty didn't have to tell Sherlock twice. Stretching himself across both cushion seats, he wiggled his ass with all his might along to the lyrics of Anaconda. Sherlock twerked dat ass like John was watching.

"Damn girl!" wowed Moriarty, marveling the impressive butt muscles.

Sherlock smirked, sitting back down to confront his opposite. "I just followed the advice a wise woman bestowed upon me when I graduated Uni. Shake it like jello, make the boys say hello! My mother was a smart lady."

And so they continued on their never ending quest to "shake that thang," known to us as the greatest dance party in the history of spontaneous dance parties. A car's stereo volume has never been so mistreated, then it had been at that exact moment. The metallic boom of the speakers blasting the beat of Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It) into the street, attracted unwanted attention by pedestrians to the bouncing car.

"Ah~! Yeah~! That's what I'm talking about!" Moriarty interjected while his head bobbed, arms moving in waves.

"This is my jam," Sherlock cried out. "This is my jam, dog!"

With a flick of the wrists and sliding their hips in perfect unison, the geniuses, in a futile endeavor, tried replicating Beyoncé's fantastic dance moves.

"Mummy, what's wrong with them?"

"Don't look Timmy, they'll take you away."

People rushed passed quickly, not wanting anything to do with the two crazy idiots rocking back and forth on the seats. You had to be blind to not see the longest car dance party England has ever witnessed. Nearly everyone had their sights on the bouncing automobile, but chose to ignore it, walking speedily away.

"Cause every time we touch, I feel the static~! And every time we kiss I swear I can-FLYYYYYYYYYY~!

Sherlock screeched in attempts to amplify the energy of the song.

Seconds flew into minutes as minutes disappeared from the hour, unaware that the time limit was fast approaching. Song after song passed combined with their ill attempts to dance or sing. Well technically, it was more like awkward wiggling and screaming instead of singing. Teenaged Dream, Wannabe, You Belong with Me, all trending songs from 1996 to today's hits were played and danced to. By the time The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani came blaring through the radio, they were too far gone in their own rocking world to notice the two men standing on the curb, staring at them. With coffee in hand and the blankest expression you could ever imagine adorning their features, all they could do was stare.

From the outside, you could see the two swing around, screaming gleefully. Their presence unregistered and unseen; if the boys wanted to be ignored then it was working, however that was not the case. Smiling like kindergartener's on school picture day, their foreheads glistened with the sweat of forty-eight minutes worth of exercise, too wrapped up in the moment to remember why they were caged in the first place. Frankly at this point in their relationships, this didn't surprise them. It was just mustering up what to say to an unfamiliar observer whilst your significant other is embarrassing the living crap out of you. John hobbled to and fro, mouth opening and closing, unsure what to do, wanting to speak but thought against it. Sebastian remained still, mouth ajar from awe and confusion. Actually, confusion doesn't even begin to describe the sight they had stumbled upon. No amount of tapping or yelling could faze the men inside, lost in a blur of seismic beats that shook the Cadillac.

Nodding silently in agreement, John and Sebastian wandered back down the street.

"Do you think they'll be fine for another hour?"

"Yeah, I think so."


End file.
